Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic: Highlights
by What contented men desire
Summary: Highlight reel from Knights of the Old Republic. All the best scenes, with none of the nosensical filler crap. Rating may go up with later chapters. RevanxBastila
1. Chapter 1

A word on Knights of the Old Republic: Highlights - I had been entertaining the idea of doing a full KOTOR 1 fic, but ultimately decided that it was simply too much of a bother. Therefore: I bring you the Knights of the Old Republic highlights. Rather than do my take on the entire game, I'm just writing out some of the scenes that I liked the best, and doing them in my own way. As you will notice I do not follow the game dialogue, and I deviate from the story on some counts. I only do that when I figure that it makes more sense to do it my way, or when I simply like it better my way.

Star Wars and all information pertaining to it is the property of Lucasarts Ltd. Knights of the Old Republic is the joint property of BioWare Co. and of Obsidian Entertainment. The short story both preceding and following this disclaimer is an unauthorized piece, spawned from my own imagination. As such, the plot and any original characters are the property of the author. Any money made from this story is against the consent of the author, who is not receiving one thin dime.

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**Chapter 1**

The man known as Maric Dargic surveyed his new quarters with lacking enthusiasm. By what logic had he traded a couple of decades on Kessel for military service? Damn good logic, in retrospect. Even the cramped quarters in the _Endar Spire_'s residential wing were better than digging for spice in the dark. And he hadn't even really done anything wrong. So maybe he did the Corellian run with a few hundred kilos of spice and CorSec on his tail, but so what? If the Republic were so concerned with stopping smuggling they should go straight to Nar Shadaa, Nal Hutta, or Sleheyron. With a sigh, Maric deposited his olive green duffel next to the bunk he claimed as his. He lay down and pulled out a dirty magazine. All humans, he didn't see the appeal in naked Twi'leks.

Some time later, as he was admiring a slim brunette that drew him for some unknown reason, a loud cough drew his attention. "This had better be important." Maric grumbled, glancing over his mag. He was greeted by a soldier in an immaculate uniform, with a large chin cleft and short curly blond hair. "Who in the Sam hill are you?" Maric asked the interloper, his hand straying to the modified blaster on his hip. Maric had several bounties on his head, so it paid to be careful. At least he didn't have anything to draw Calo Nord's attention, something he thanked his lucky stars for every day.

The soldier saluted. "Private Trask Ulgo, ensign with the Republic fleet stationed on the _Endar Spire_." Trask declared. Maric snorted. A sycophant if ever there was one.

"Maric Dargic, captain of the freighter _Liberty_, current record holder on the Kessel Run, and serving five to ten for smuggling." The smuggler introduced proudly.

Private Ulgo was more than a little taken aback by his roommate's colourful history. "You're a smuggler?" he asked incredulously.

Maric nodded. "Got picked up in Coronet by the Corellian Security Force with a little over the 'recommended' volume of andris for a freighter to be carrying. CorSec busted me, offered me five to ten in the Navy or twenty in Kessel, so here I am. Drink?" he offered, reaching into his bag.

Trask was flabbergasted. "How come you aren't in uniform?"

"Didn't get one."

"You should be on duty!"

"Not 'til we pull out."

"How did you get that magazine?"

"Told 'em I was simple and it was a picture book. Look, d'you want this drink or not?" Maric had already begun to drink from a bottle he had pulled from his bag, and was dangling another enticingly.

Trask was speechless. "Personnel are not allowed to consume beverage of an intoxicating nature." He quoted primly after a stretch of silence.

Maric smirked. "C'mon, it's real Alderaanian whiskey." He spoke with the air of one instructing a child in the ways of the world.

Trask did his best to be strong, probably reciting the pledge they made all new recruits memorize, but finally gave in. "To new friends, and fighting for the Republic." He toasted, clinking the neck of his bottle against Maric's.

"I'll drink to that." The smuggler returned. And they did. A lot.

---

In less than a week on board the _Endar Spire_ Private Ulgo and Captain Dargic had gained quite a reputation. Maric had broken Trask of his obsequious ways, and one or both of them was almost always under investigation for any number of practical jokes.

Two weeks after the _Spire_ had left Coruscant it had been summoned to Dantooine, where it had been essentially taken over by Jedi. Maric got a good look at their leader, Bastila Shan, and was immediately impressed. What a body! Of course there was no chance that a Jedi would take to a guy like him, but he could dream right?

Not even three days after picking up the Jedi, Maric was jerked from his sleep by the intruder alarm and his roommate practically breaking down the door. "What the Hell is going on?" he shouted, struggling to be heard over the blaring alarm. Trask was less successful, and made several failed attempts at communication before Maric simply vaporized the klaxon with his pistol.

"We've been boarded by Sith, the ship can't hold out much more. Come on, we need to get to the escape pods!" Maric was impressed that his friend could fit that entire sentence in one breath, but he complied. Of course he took an extra coupe of seconds to pull on his reinforced flight suit and grab his bag.

"Alright, let's get out of here." Maric encouraged, a good ten minutes later. The Sith had evolved to firing turbolaser batteries, which made walking an interesting practice. The _Spire_ was in lockdown, which meant that the door out of the dormitory section was locked, but Maric had smuggled a few computer spikes past the inspection. Unfortunately the open door met them face-to-face with some armoured Sith troopers.

"For the Republic!" Trask cried, firing his blaster pistol wildly. He actually managed to take one of them out, eventually, and Maric caught the other straight between the eyes, or where he imagined the eyes would be in those damned mirrored visors. A quick frisk of the corpses uncovered a long sword, which Maric kept, and a handful of grenades, which were divided about evenly. Maric followed Trask through the maze of corridors, having never bothered to memorize them, taking out small pockets of soldiers on the way. Finally Trask back-pedalled quickly from behind a corner. Maric shrugged his shoulders deliberately. "A whole group of Sith." Trask mouthed. "Seven or eight of them."

Maric thought hard for a moment, then remembered the grenades he had taken off the first victims. He relayed his plan through a series of hand signals, then they put it into practice. Maric leapt out from behind the corner, rolling a stun grenade from each hand across the floor. The Trask came out, wielding both his and Maric's blasters, and shot down as many as he could before the grenade effects wore off. One actually survived to take a shot at the unarmed Maric, which hit him in the side of the chest, before he was taken down. A quick hit from a medpack and he was well enough to travel.

They didn't have to go far before earning a break however as the next door revealed two Jedi, one in black robes with a red lightsaber and one in brown with a blue, locked in combat. Trask wisely suggested they stay out of it, to which Maric was only too happy to comply. Shortly after defeating the Dark Jedi, a turbolaser blast on the hull caught the Jedi in a lethal explosion. Trask grabbed the remains of the two lightsabers and ran for the next door. Lo and behold, the path splits. Behind door number one, a very menacing looking Dark Jedi. Behind door number two, who knows? Shouting something about 'holding him off,' Trask dropped his pack and rushed towards the Dark Jedi, vibroblade held high. Maric did not need to see through the sealed door to know that his friend had just been gutted.

Through door number two into the Starboard of the immense capital ship, also known as the home stretch. A short corridor opened into the maintenance module, where two Sith troopers fell before Maric's deadly combination of heavy blaster and long sword. A nearby console was rerouted to show the camera feeds, revealing a large number of troopers between him and the escape pods. Fortunately he had enough computer spikes stashed away to 'accidentally' overload the conduit in the room, doubling his odds. He threw the door open, firing several shots blind into the rising steam from the char-grilled Sith corpses. Some scattered cries of agony informed him that he had been on target. He crept silently through the mist, and when it dissipated he found himself behind a Sith Elite. Fortunately the conduit had weakened the Elite's powerful armour, so it only took one hard stab with the long sword to deliver a mortal wound. Maric opened the door to the escape pod hatch, head swimming from his exertion, and came face-to-face with Commander Carth Onasi.

The Commander looked nearly as surprised to see the smuggler, as the smuggler was to see him. "So you're the one who Ulgo was bringing in? What happened to him anyway?" Maric didn't answer, but Carth understood. "Never mind. There's only one escape pod left, so let's get going." Maric filed dutifully into the cramped pod, which disengaged from the _Endar Spire_ moments before the Republic Capital Ship exploded.

---

_(anger)  
The Dark Lord Revan stood on the bridge of his Interdictor-class flagship. One gloved hand was raised, clenched in a fist. Power radiated from his emotionless armour, a soldier dropped dead behind him. The letter of condolence sent later to the man's family would read cause of death as asphyxiation. The last cries of another being, a dark Jedi, filled the room. The young Jedi Padawan, what was her name? Bastila, yes that was it, had killed him. Revan made a mental note to increase the training. Slowly he turned to face the trio of Jedi who had so insolently invaded his vessel. _

_The young one, Bastila, she was head of the strike team? Preposterous. Yet there she was. "You cannot win, Revan." Her voice was pleasing to Revan's ears, and he felt faint stirrings he had thought long ago vanquished. If only they had met under more fortuitous circumstances._

_(fear)  
Revan brought his scarlet lightsaber blade up. If he were to face his death this day, he would not go down without a fight. The Jedi were young, comparatively; they would be slain easily enough. But maybe the Padawan Bastila could be turned._

_(pain)  
__But Revan's choice was lost to the ages. Moments too late, his Force sense alerted him that _Leviathan_ had fired on his bridge. He could easily save himself of course, but he wasn't that far down the dark path. He focused all his energy into a barrier between him and his anchor, Padawan Bastila. Explosions shook his body, even through his armour, and Revan faced his destiny on his terms._

---

Maric's cool blue eyes opened slowly. Everything was fuzzy, but he could see a bright orange blur coming slowly into focus. With agonizing slothfulness the greyness that Maric found himself in sharpened into a dreary, generic one-room apartment. The orange blue sharpened into Commander Carth Onasi, CO of the _Endar Spire_. Maric vaguely remembered being placed under review for dying the commander's uniform pink. Shit.

"Hey, are you okay? Can you hear me?" the commander's voice was steadily increasing, as though he thought Maric had gone deaf. The simple truth was that Maric's bodily functions hadn't quite extended into speaking yet. Of course the pounding headache that was racking him didn't help either. "C'mon, say something." The elder man pleaded.

It took a conscious effort, but Maric managed to force his vocal chords into compliance. "_K'uur_." It was all he could say. Unfortunately the commander had never learned to speak Mando'a. Come to think of it, Maric himself wasn't sure where he had learned it.

At least Commander Onasi looked generally concerned for his officer's well being. "Thank the stars, do you know how lucky you are to be alive?" Maric didn't know, but he had a feeling that he was about to find out. "You had serious plasma burns on the right side of your chest." For the first time Maric noticed the bandages wrapped around his torso. "I did my best to heal them, but I'm no medic."

Maric struggled to pull himself into a sitting position on the bed he found himself on. "So where are we?" his voice had a metallic rasp to it. "And how long have I been out?" A quick catalogue of his body revealed a few new cuts, and some knots in his musculature that would be worked out later.

"We're on Taris, a xenophobic world under Sith control." Maric groaned, and the commander nodded sympathetically. "More specifically we're in an abandoned apartment in the 'human' district.

"The largest district, reserved for the wealthy?" Maric asked dryly.

The commander nodded. "Bingo. And to answer your other questions, it's been about a week since we escaped the _Endar Spire_." Maric rolled his shoulders and wiggled his toes. He would be just fine.

He clambered out of the bed and looked around for his clothes. Finding the brown pants he had personally armoured, he pulled them on. "So, what's the plan Commander?" He buckled his belt and looked around for his shirt.

Commander Onasi pointed out the garment on the back of a chair. "If we're going to be working together, then you'd better call me Carth." The commander explained. "But our first task is to find Bastila."

Maric though for a moment while he was buttoning up his shirt and pulling on the armoured vest he ware overtop. "Bastila? That's the Jedi who took over the _Spire_, right?"

Carth nodded. "She hopped in an escape pod as soon as the Sith interdictors pulled us out of hyperspace. Seemed to think that Malak was after her personally." He went silent for a long moment. "I did some scouting while you were out, and it turns out that two pods had been seen. One landed in the upper city, ours, and the other went further down than anyone up here wants to go."

"So we need to find one Jedi, who could be dead, in a planet that's covered by city, with nothing more to go on than that her pod went 'down there,' which is filled with anti-human sentients?" the smuggler summarized. Carth nodded. Maric popped a power cell into his pistol. "What are we waiting for?" he asked with a grin.

* * *

Ta-da. Some comparatively large changes to the main plot, but who really thinks that two people could share a room and never see each other?

_K'uur _is Mando'a for 'hush' or 'be quiet'

R&R, always appreciated


	2. Chapter 2

Star Wars and all information pertaining to it is the property of Lucasarts Ltd. Knights of the Old Republic is the joint property of BioWare Co. and of Obsidian Entertainment. The short story both preceding and following this disclaimer is an unauthorized piece, spawned from my own imagination. As such, the plot and any original characters are the property of the author. Any money made from this story is against the consent of the author, who is not receiving one thin dime.

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**Chapter 2**

Another empty bottle of Tarisian ale clanked on the table beside Maric. He had just won the Swoop racing championship, thereby facilitating the escape of Bastila, and the team had organized an impromptu party. The Jedi was sleeping off the effects of the neural disruptor, and Maric noticed that Carth was in no hurry to wake her. "So I've got the top time, right. And then Brejik comes up with this bullshit about how I cheated, and he's holding on to the prize." Maric was absolutely trashed, and everyone knew it. No one particularly cared though, since Zaalbar and Bastila were asleep and Carth and Mission were equally inebriated. He had been recounting the tale of his adventures at the Swoop track in agonizing detail, since no one had been allowed to go with him. He was, as a matter of fact, just reaching the culmination of his tale when Bastila decided she was recovered.

"What are you three doing at this hour?" she asked them angrily, and sleepily. It was late, so late it was actually early, but they were drunk; they had a good excuse.

"We're having a drink to celebrate." Mission told the prissy Jedi. She was the least intoxicated of the trio, having enough smarts to not touch the Tarisian ale. She had been nursing a few bottles of Corellian whiskey that Maric had picked up in the Lower City. "Want some?"

To say Bastila was apoplectic would be the understatement of the century. "No, I do not 'want some!' You can't possibly be older than fifteen!" She rounded on Maric and Carth, both pointedly looking anywhere but at her. "And you two, you're Republic soldiers! You should know better!"

Carth, who was the next most lucid, attempted to placate her. "Look, Bastila, it's been a rough couple of days for all of us, Mission especially. And after all the trouble we went through to rescue you, I think we've earned a bit of a reprieve, don't you think?"

Bastila snorted. "Oh yes, your so-called 'rescue.' I can't pretend you were terribly efficient about it, and I assure you I needed no such assistance." She corrected primly. It was starting to get on Maric's nerves, and nothing sobered a smuggler faster than a fight brewing.

"Hold on a minute Bas." Bastila seethed, but Maric ignored her. "Are you telling me that you, a famous Jedi, allowed yourself to be caught by the Vulkars which we three, soldiers and ruffians, managed to cut down like stalks of wheat? And you mean to say that, for four days, you permitted yourself to remain a prisoner of aforementioned Vulkar scum?" he was highly dubious about the entire pretence.

Bastila, who must have been aware of how unbelievably ridiculous it sounded, nodded. "Frankly, yes."

Maric smacked his forehead. "Would someone please tell me why we bothered to rescue the Ice Princess?" he asked Carth and Mission, loud enough for Bastila to hear. The Twi'lek girl chuckled, earning her a dark look from the Jedi.

Carth, ever the mediator, stepped in immediately. "Alright, it's in the past. Right now we need to work on how to get off this planet without the Sith finding us. Or you." He nodded towards Bastila. "Any suggestions?"

Three pairs of eyes turned expectantly to Mission. This was her domain after all. She sighed. "Well, we'll need a ship and the blockade codes. I heard the codes are locked in the Sith base, but even with them we'll need a ship fast enough to beat the blockade."

"Any ideas?" Maric asked curiously. He had one forming himself, but wasn't sure if it was feasible.

She nodded glumly. "Yea, but it won't be easy. Word on the street is that there's only one ship on Taris that fast: the _Ebon Hawk_, Davik's ship. With the quarantine in effect, it'll be locked up tight at his estate. And you don't just go to see Davik, not unless you have a death wish."

Everyone was silent for a moment. Finally Bastila spoke up, apparently dropping the 'holier-than-thou' charade for the time being. "The codes seem like as good a place as any to begin. I sense that if we start on those, an opportunity for a ship will present itself." No one had any better ideas, so they decided to start in the morning. Or, to be more specific, a reasonable hour in the morning.

---

The later start had begun with an argument over who should and should not accompany Maric. Everyone agreed that they should stay in a small group, to avoid attracting attention, and that Mission should be a part of it because of her knowledge of the planet. That was as far as the agreements went. Bastila felt she had a stake in it, which was true, but everyone else thought she posed too big of a risk, which was also true. Zaalbar refused to let Mission out of his sight, and Mission was in turn adamant about the Wookie coming with them. Bastila and Carth both agreed that a Wookiee was not the way to go when one's aim was subtlety. Finally, Maric stepped in. "Bastila, you and Mission come with me." Everyone else began chattering their objections, but he quieted them with a hand. It still amazed many of them how natural of a leader he was. "We all know Mission knows the area the best. Bastila has skills that are invaluable to the operation. Not to say that you two don't," he pacified the soldier and the Wookiee, "But she has abilities none of the rest of us can even imagine. I'm sure she's capable of taking care of herself."

There were other objections, of course, but Maric didn't pay them any mind. He stepped out into the apartment complex, where he was stopped by a purple Twi'lek. "Excuse me, but are you Maric Dargic? Swoop racing champ?" he asked in his native tongue. Maric had been around Mission so much he had forgotten that Twi'leks usually spoke Twi'leki. It took him a moment to translate.

"Who wants to know?" he asked cautiously. His hand was drifting to the blaster on his hip, which did not go unnoticed by the messenger.

"Hang on, hang on. Don't shoot me! Canderous Ordo sent me, he's waiting for you in the cantina." The messenger disappeared faster than a blink, which made little difference since Maric was in no condition to shoot him.

"C…Canderous Ordo?" they had encountered the Mandalorian in the Lower City, and again in the Undercity. Maric had had several impressions of him, one of which he voiced now. "Big? Big Canderous Ordo?" Mission nodded. "Big. Big!" Maric was gesturing wildly with his hands, indicating that Ordo was about twice his height and girth.

Mission patted his arm. "Yea Maric, big. Don't worry, we won't let the big bad Mandalorian hurt you." She rolled her eyes when Maric began to follow her, still muttering the word 'big.' "Honestly, all the stuff he went through to rescue you and two words reduce him to this." She commented aside to Bastila. The Jedi had no answer. She seemed deep in contemplation. What it was she was thinking about is a question that only one person can truthfully answer, but her face was adorned with a slight frown.

* * *

There we go. Short, yes. Frankly I didn't care much to go into the meeting with Canderous, or breaking into the base, and especially not Davik's estate. Next couple of chapters will be Dantooine, unless I change my mind. Either is as likely as the other where I'm concerned. 

Sorry, I tried to make Bastila likeable. She's just so, almost wantonly, cruel in that conversation...

R&R, I don't know how awful I am if you don't tell me!


	3. Chapter 3

Star Wars and all information pertaining to it is the property of Lucasarts Ltd. Knights of the Old Republic is the joint property of BioWare Co. and of Obsidian Entertainment. The short story both preceding and following this disclaimer is an unauthorized piece, spawned from my own imagination. As such, the plot and any original characters are the property of the author. Any money made from this story is against the consent of the author, who is not receiving one thin dime.

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**Chapter 3**

Maric Dargic, officially a Jedi Apprentice, strolled aimlessly through the Dantooine plains whistling an old spacer's tune he had picked up on Deralia. His first few tests had been shockingly easy, but this one was probably going to be a little different. He had been tasked with finding out what exactly was driving all the local Kath hounds crazy, and stopping it. Zhar, his Twi'lek Jedi master, had hinted that it was a dark taint. Simple logic indicated that it was a person who had fallen. He would have to fight. That was no problem for the former smuggler, he had proven himself quite able with a blade. He smiled to himself as he remembered a particularly noteworthy duel between himself and Bastila.

---

_Maric blocked Bastila's down swing with effortless grace. She was a sentinel, apparently, and unused to fighting without the Force. However Zhar had insisted on it, since Maric himself was only beginning to feel its power. He was almost lazy as he parried his opponent's swings. He had to admit that she was good, if a little rusty with a standard long sword; he was just better._

_Zhar would not permit him to skim through the training, so he clapped his hands once. This signified that the combatants were to change tactics. Bastila moved quickly to the defensive, which was very fortunate for her. Maric's blade swung through the air rapidly, striking her defence from angles innumerable, in a loose but manageable Juyo. The elder Padawan was only barely able to maintain her defence, and was finally bested when he slid his boot through her shield and knocked her to the ground. She looked up at him with grudging respect, something Maric was more than a little shocked to see._

---

"Yea, that was some fight." He commented to himself as his blue lightsaber diced a couple of Kath hounds who had gotten a little too nosy. He knew something of the Echani battle etiquette, and was quite aware of some of the more basic emotions one could read into combat. Bastila's technique had been sloppy, but almost deliberately so. She hadn't wanted to hurt him, but she didn't know why. It was a mystery for him to puzzle over, but not yet.

He had found a strange sort of ruined temple, and even his largely untrained senses could feel the waves of darkness. He approached slowly, and had only a split second to observe the Cathar meditating before she attacked him. Her style was vicious, but desperate. It did not take Maric long to cleave her crimson saber in two. "You are strong, even to me and my darkness. What is it you wish, you who bested me so easily?" her voice was pained, and she spoke of the darkness emanating from her shrine as though it were her own.

Maric shrugged. "Nothing, really. Just to talk." Her eyebrows rose disbelievingly, and he plopped himself down on the stone next to her. She joined him at his silent insistence. "So, what's up?" he asked her innocently, as though had been friends their whole lives.

She gave him a hard look that clearly conveyed her fears for his sanity, but quickly turned away. She didn't answer for a short time, content to simply stare at the grasses waving in the breeze. "During my training I attacked my master, Quatra. I hurt her badly, maybe even killed her. I knew I could never go back, so I came here to revel in my darkness and the power it gave me. I thought it made me strong, but if a mere apprentice can defeat me…" she trailed off. Maric could tell that she was trying not to break down into tears. He did not feel qualified to comfort her physically, much as he may want to.

"You know," he commented nonchalantly, "I don't think the council is as strict as you think. Maybe you should try to go back."

She shook her head. "I can never go back. I fell to the dark side; I am nothing." Her voice was faint and hopeless, but Maric could tell that he had partially gotten through.

"Now don't say that." He reprimanded firmly. "You are beautiful, intelligent, and skilled. You aren't the first person to fall to the dark side, and I highly doubt you'll be the last." He soothed. It seemed to have the desired effect.

"You really think so?" Maric nodded, and the Cathar was silent for another long period. Finally, she spoke. "Maybe you're right. Even if they don't let me back, I will at least have tried." She rose to leave, then turned back. "My name is Juhani, by the way." She formally introduced herself.

"Maric Dargic." He extended his hand to Juhani, and they shook. "Good luck."

---

Later, much later as it happened, Maric found himself sitting on one of the plateaus on the Dantooine fields. He had gone out for a stroll to clear his head, the afternoon had been a busy time of invading ancient temples and slaughtering homicidal Mandalorian raiders, and he had found himself here. It was flat and grassy, which pretty well described Dantooine in general, and commanded an impressive view of the landscape. It was peaceful, as if there were a warm presence comforting his very soul. No, wait a moment. He wasn't sensing an impression of a person; he was sensing the person themselves

He turned slowly to come face-to-face (more like face-to-abdomen) with whoever it was who had been watching him. She was wearing a long white shirt, and her brown hair was loose around her shoulders. The change was so profound; he almost didn't recognize her. "I'm sorry, is this your place?" he rose to leave, not wanting to intrude on her meditation.

Bastila waved him back. "It's okay." She knelt next to him, and took in a deep breath. "I used to come here to be alone, to get away from being the prodigious pretentious Padawan." She chuckled softly at her alliteration, but otherwise seemed very sad about something.

They sat in silence for a long time. Dantooine's two moons looked on from above as the two Jedi took it in turns, unconsciously of course, to slip into sleep and reawaken. Finally, as the planet's cognominal star was just beginning to break the horizon, Maric spoke. "You know, I think we got off on the wrong foot. Do you think we could try for a second first impression?" he suggested, in a small voice.

Bastila considered it for a moment. Ultimately she extended her hand. "Bastila Shan, delighted to make your acquaintance."

He took it. "Maric Dargic, at your service." Whatever tension had knotted his muscles filtered away with that final act. It had felt oddly…uncomfortable…to be disliked by Bastila. It was a new experience for him, though he was no stranger to loathing. Whatever it was though, though the fault may lie in their bond or in something else, it was now at peace.

"I feel like I owe you an apology." Maric looked at Bastila in surprise. She refused to meet his gaze, preferring to watch the sun slowly rise in the heavens.

He shook his head. "I thought we were starting fresh, putting our time on Taris behind us."

She nodded quickly. "I know, but…I have to say this." He gestured that she could continue without interruption. "I was hard on you on Taris. You had tried to rescue me, and in no small part made my escape possible. But, at every available opportunity, I was always hounding you about something. Don't trust Canderous, you shouldn't be risking your life in the duelling ring for credits, there's no need to break into the rooms of Davik's guests." She sighed heavily.

"And I was even worse in your training. Every day I was pushing you to read some more about this, or attempt a combat simulation against that. I remember my masters were the same way. Every day started with at least four solid hours of meditation, and ended with endless other tasks. I shouldn't have forced you through the same mould, and I'm sorry that I did."

Maric had no immediate response. Even though he didn't want to admit it, it was true. Oftentimes he, Carth, and Canderous would joke about the 'Ice Princess.' It had been funny at the times, but afterwards he always felt horrible for it. "I guess I have my own apology to make." He began slowly. "Every so often, usually after you had had one of your worse days, Canderous, Carth, and I would get together and drink ourselves stupid. More often than not we would end up discussing you and, regrettably, we were rarely very kind about it. I can still remember every terrible thing we said about you, and they pain me. So…I'm sorry." He finished, rather lamely.

Before Bastila could respond, Maric remembered another thing he was sorry about. "And, well…this is going to sound very, very, disturbed but, when I first saw you I couldn't get you out of my mind. That may have been why I worked so hard to find you on Taris, and then when I found you…wow!" he cleared his throat. "But those aren't thoughts a Jedi should be thinking about another Jedi so, sorry about that too." He got up quickly and returned to the _Hawk_, not really wanting to know what she thought of that.

Bastila Shan sat there until Dantooine's sun was high in the sky, face as red as a Lethan Twi'lek, wondering about what might have been.

---

While Bastila sought her answers from the Dantooine landscape, Maric found his way to what passed for a library in the academy. He had just located an interesting-looking datapad concerning the Great Hunt when a vaguely familiar shadow crossed his vision. "Juhani!" he exclaimed happily, turning to face her. "Well?"

Her slender face broke into a nervous smile that did not seem to fit. "They accepted me back, gladly. I hardly had to say anything at all." She admitted sheepishly, ashamed of her own foolishness the day before.

The smuggler-turned-Jedi rewarded her with a pleased look. "Well, what did I tell you?" his Cathar friend had to concede the point. "How's Quatra?" he was much more serious now, it was no longer a laughing matter.

Juhani looked at her feet in embarrassment. "She was not nearly as injured as I had believed. It was foolish of me to believe that I could have harmed her, even with the dark side." Maric patted her arm gingerly.

"Don't worry about it. If anything you should be happy. Now if you ever feel the desire to fall to the dark side again, you'll know you aren't very good at it." They shared a low chuckle. Maric was rather pleased that he managed to stave off depression in his new friend. "But I hope you can survive without me for a while. The Council have set Bastila and I with some mission to save the Republic, so I'll be leaving tomorrow morning."

Juhani chattered away in Catharese, which Maric realised he had never learned, until switching to Basic. "Forgive me, but that is why I sought you out. I have just et with the Council, and they have agreed to allow me to accompany you." She seemed quite excited.

Maric shared the sentiment. "That's great! We need all the help we can get, and you're a great fighter!" she flushed slightly under his praise, and took her leave. Maric downloaded the story he had been about to read onto his own datapad, feeling too elated to sit in a stuffy library all day long. The day just kept getting better and better.

* * *

So there you have it. As I hinted I probably would, I have changed my mind. Next chapter is Tatooine, and I'll see if I can get it into more than one chapter. Just to be different.

Cognominal basically means that the star is also named Dantooine.

R&R, please?


	4. Chapter 4

Star Wars has not become mine in thetwenty-seven days since I've updated this fic. Nor will it become mine anytime soon.

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**Chapter 4**

Maric Dargic, freshly awakened from his nap, could tell that something was wrong. Maybe it was those damn new Force powers causing that shiver to go down his spine, or maybe it was the faint sounds of crying coming the from the starboard dormitory. Perhaps a brief background is in order, since it may seem odd that someone would be crying in that particular dormitory. On the flight from Taris to Dantooine, which seemed to have happened a lifetime longer ago than the few weeks it really was, the small crew had realized quickly that they would need to sleep on the long flight. While there were two dormitories on board the _Hawk_, it did not solve the fact that there were only really six bunks for four males and two females. Zaalbar helped things along, pointing out that he was far too large for the human-sized bunks, and suggesting that he sleep in a hammock he had brought along in his bag.

Therefore the females claimed the starboard side, and the men took the port. This would not ordinarily be a problem, except that the other males had learned never to enter their room when Canderous was sleeping; the Mandalorian's wide chest produced some pretty horrific snoring. Carth solved his side of the issue by spending almost all of his time in the cockpit, but Maric frequently found himself wishing he could sleep on the women's side. Of course mentioning it to them had only elicited a giggling fit from Mission and a reproachful lecture from Bastila. He managed to cut her off rather quickly by informing the irate Jedi that, "You are so cute when you're angry." Even though it just annoyed her further, he could see a faint blush on her cheeks and knew he had won the round.

And it had in fact become a game to them. They never again spoke of what had happened on the plateau their last day on Dantooine, but instead they both accepted it. "Even a Jedi cannot always control the feelings of the heart," as Bastila had so wisely put it. So they turned it into a farce. He would crack wise and flirt with her every opportunity he got, and she in turn would lecture him teasingly and occasionally joke back. Every time they did this, any on-lookers would smile softly to themselves. Except for Canderous and T3 of course. The former would grunt and exit the room, and the latter would just make some low beeping sounds that were almost like laughter.

Fast-forward to the present, where Maric found himself following the sounds to the forbidden women's dorm. He peeked through the door cautiously, and saw only Mission. She was sitting on one of the bunks, head in her hands, shoulders shaking softly. "Mission? Are you alright?" No reply, but it had been kind of a stupid question. He padded over and sat down beside her. "Come on, what's wrong." He pleaded.

She moved very rapidly, flinging herself on him and burying her face in his chest. "I just, can't believe it's really gone." In that moment, Maric knew exactly what was wrong. Taris. "It was my home, for so long. And now…now it's gone." She choked out her confession, her tears staining Maric's robes. He didn't mind.

"Ssh, it's going to be okay." He soothed the young Twi'lek, his hand rubbing her back awkwardly. In all his experiences with women, crying ones were not his forte. "Taris will always be a part of you, and you should never try and forget it." She pulled back from him, eyes red, and saw his gentle smile and the compassion in his eyes. She immediately launched into an account of how she had come to Taris, smuggled in a packing crate by her brother at age five. Maric was horrified that anyone would do that to such a small child, but she didn't seem too scarred about it. In fact she seemed to idolize her brother, a being who Maric quickly identified as an idiot.

By the time she was finished, her eyes had almost completely dried. She wiped what tears were left, and he saw this as his cue to leave. He passed along some more encouraging words, and exited the room. On his way to the main hold, his penultimate destination, he was stopped by a soft voice coming from the medical bay. "That was a nice thing you did for her." He looked around. Bastila was sitting on the small bunk in the room, holding a bandage to a small cut on her arm. "Loose access panel." She explained, divining his concern from their bond.

He shrugged the compliment off. "You almost sound surprised." He commented.

She glared at him. "I'm not joking. You know she's been crying her eyes out for three days? No one else helped her." He gave her a questioning look. "Juhani and I tried, sure. She wouldn't say a thing to us. Just you." Her emotional defences wavered for just a second, but it was enough for Maric to discern a variety of emotions. Confusion, empathy, admiration, concern, and something else that made him feel very warm inside. It was locked up tight before he could identify it, but it was very powerful.

"I should probably go, I was supposed to relieve Carth almost an hour ago." He explained lamely. She nodded, permitting him to depart. She was sure he had felt things she hadn't wanted him to feel, thing she didn't even want herself to feel again, but she could at least take comfort in the fact that he didn't know what it meant.

---

During his last sleep shift before landing on Tatooine, Maric was treated to another vision. It was of a Star Map, identical to the one they had found on Dantooine. It appeared to be a cave of some sort, surrounded by broken statues. He and Bastila discussed it a bit before heading out. Mission insisted on coming with them, so they let her. Their first few minutes on the surface of the planet were not pleasant. First they were accosted by a Czerka docking official, who demanded a hundred credit fine for not being on his docking schedule. Maric waved him off, saying that he would end up spending the money in Czerka shops anyway. It took all his willpower not to decapitate the man. He really didn't like Czerka Corporation. Moments following this, on their attempt to exit the docking bay, an Aqualish stopped them and informed them that the shipment of Gizka had been loaded. He proceeded to explain that one of the crates had broken, and fled rather quickly. The team unanimously decided to worry about it later, and entered the desert city of Anchorhead.

Unfortunately, Anchorhead was little better than the docking bay. Humans, Duros, and Twi'leks wandered almost aimlessly through the streets, little Jawas scurried around and generally got in the way, and monumental Rontos reared on their hind legs at the least opportune moments. Each member of the small group was almost trampled several times. Though the settlement seemed all but deserted, Maric could sense a current of life running through the place. This place was very important, he could tell, but he didn't know why.

He conducted a brief conversation with a very haggard-looking young woman, who was interested in selling an absolutely enormous wraid plate. Unfortunately right action doesn't pay very well, so he was unable to purchase it from her directly. He did, however, manage to convince her to allow him to sell it on her behalf. He would need a hunting license to sell in the club, but that was the least of his concerns at the moment.

Shortly after this, walking around Anchorhead with no particular destination in mind, a rather irritated-looking Duros bumped into him. The being did not seem overtly concerned with having run into somebody, but was all too eager to include Maric and his friends in his grievances. "You, human! Are all of your females so detestable?" he asked, in a tone that suggested he had a very serious problem with this particular human female. Maric was about to answer, but he never got the opportunity. "Honestly, 'Helena' must be the Basic equivalent of 'Neimoidian.'" He felt Bastila stiffen, and the waves of distaste and fear she was exuding almost drowned him.

He turned to her, a question in his eyes. "Helena is my mother's name." She told him simply. It was quite sufficient. Maric had been treated to a four-hour rant about every injustice ever committed by Mrs Helena Shan, though her name had never been mentioned. If even a fraction of the stories were true, she was not a person Maric had any desire to meet in the immediate future. "I can't shake the feeling that I'll regret saying this, but we should probably go see her. It can't be a coincidence that she's here at the same time we are."

The Duros stared at her in apparent shock, though it was rather difficult to tell. Duros faces were not known for being notably expressive. "You're actually looking for her?" He glanced at Maric. He did not deny the claim. "She's in the cantina." They were told. Mission was sure she heard the Duros mutter something about human insanity as he passed them. Bastila stalked away silently, the emotion rolling off her in veritable waves. Maric felt like he should probably say something, but nothing came to mind. Besides, what was that he was sensing? Right around the corner she was about to turn.

He rushed forward and yanked her back away from that corner. She turned to him angrily, fully prepared to give him the worst reprimand of his life so far, but he explained himself before she could. "Calm down, can't you feel what's around that corner?" he asked her. She was obviously incapable of divesting herself of the necessary emotion to perceive the danger, so he helped her along. Acting like a human sponge, he soaked up all the hate and anger and fear directed at her mother, and any other emotions he could reach. There was only one that she fought for, and he let her have it.

When her mind was clear enough, he could sense her perceptions broadening, and could see her eyes widening. "What are we going to do?" she asked, sounding a little scared. He was unable to immediately respond, still grappling with the very powerful feelings he had absorbed from her. "The three of us are no match for three Dark Jedi." Maybe it was a little unnecessary, but it was more for Mission's benefit that anything else. The Twi'lek girl's own shock and fear were not helping Maric's emotional overload, until a comforting presence in the back of his mind began to take her feelings back little by little.

"Thanks." He told Bastila, wiping the sweat from his brow. "And don't worry about those guys, I have a plan."

---

Maric strolled around the corner nonchalantly, hands in his pockets. Three dark Jedi, who were probably sweating buckets under those black robes were waiting for him. "Halt, Jedi!" One of them called out. He obliged them. "Lord Malak has offered a reward for your capture, dead or alive. Will you surrender quietly, or will we be forced to dispose of you?" Obviously the Sith academy wasn't big on manners.

The ex-smuggler smiled softly to himself. "Ah, and here we come to a cross-purposes. I have no desire to be handed over to Malak, but I'm not terribly anxious to be killed either." He shrugged helplessly.

The Sith seemed to take this as a sign that he would not come quietly, quiet possibly their most intelligent extrapolation to date. Several very mincing crimson lightsabers were activated, and their owners began to advance. Their target just smiled at them. When the troupe reached precisely the right spot, Bastila emerged from her hiding place with a look of great concentration on her face. The confused trio of dark Jedi paused to determine which target to go after, and were unceremoniously flattened by a moisture vaporator. "Well Maric, I guess I underestimated you." Bastila admitted grudgingly. Maric turned a highly satisfied smirk on Mission, who sulked and handed over a twenty-credit chip. If Bastila noticed the exchange, she ignored it. The group was not stopped for the remainder of their trip to the cantina, though they did draw some very frightened looks from the locals.

The Anchorhead Cantina was a crowded, noisy, odorous, and smoky place. Countless water pipes at the various Pazaak tables filled the room with noxiously sweet smelling smoke, and a two-Bith band in the corner produced a constant stream of sounds for the various inhabitants to talk over. Bastila directed Maric to a far corner, were a pale and lined woman in a simple robe was seated sipping from a steaming mug. The trio slid into the booth carefully. Mission was regarding the woman, who could only be Helena Shan, with curiosity. Bastila was determinedly looking at the table. The woman didn't seem to notice them until Maric whistled to the bartender and ordered a couple of whiskeys.

When she looked up, he could easily see the family resemblance. They had the same grey eyes, the same brown hair, the same nose that arched up at the end like a fleshy ski ramp. "And who are you three?" Their voices, however, were very different. Where Bastila's was smooth and melodic, Helena's was rough and dissonant.

The young Jedi looked up slowly, meeting her mother's eyes for the first time in at least eighteen years. "Hello mother."

* * *

Sorry if anyone really wanted to see the spat. I had one or two good things to put into it, but in the end it just wasn't enough. Enjoy anyway. 

Next chapter: The Dune Sea

R&R, please. The lack of response for this work is truly astounding, and maybe a little insulting. Sorry if I sound harsh, but it's late (or early) and I'm a little tired at the moment.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

As you are all probably aware, I am neither George Lucas nor Bioware. As such I do not own what I'm writing about. If you think I am either of those two, then I suggest you seek psychological assistance immediately.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

"Statement: Master, I believe this could have ended better." The rusty red droid's observation, although quite apt, was more than a little unnecessary. Shortly after the confrontation with Helena Shan, which had quickly degraded into a shouting match that had Maric scrambling to calm his Jedi friend, they had wandered into a droid shop and located a protocol droid who understood the native language of the indigenous Sand People. This droid, who went by the designation HK-47, was also fitted with armour mounts, ample weapons-handling programming, and a hole in the memory core bigger than Canderous' fist. It could remember nothing prior to be activated by the proprietor of the shop where it had been purchased, an Ithorian named Yuka Laka.

Advising Mission to return to the _Hawk_, Maric had led 47 and Bastila into the Dune Sea, where the droid proved himself something of a master marksman against several raiding parties. Unfortunately they had been captured, despite the humans covering themselves in Sand People wrappings, which led to their present condition. All of their equipment had been taken from them; this included both Maric and Bastila's lightsabers, Maric's pistols, 47's impressive collection of firearms and grenades, and the combined stock of medkits, repair kits, stimulants, and consumables carried by the two Jedi. They had also been stripped of their disguises, and the clothing underneath them, leaving Maric in a reddish-brown body glove and Bastila in the skimpy two-piece she called undergarments. She had turned a most incredible shade of red upon learning that she was to strip, a colour which had not yet abated, and Maric did not think it had anything to do with Tatooine's twin suns.

As a final injustice they had been trussed up quite efficiently by the Sand People, around t-shaped poles that prevented them from moving their arms. They had tried to deactivate HK-47, but ultimately abandoned the hopeless pursuit in favour of hogtying it. They had then been unceremoniously dumped in a room of the enclave with an unconscious Twi'lek, two guards inside the door armed with very menacing rifles, and a skin of water every so often. From what 47's hyper-sensitive auditory sensors could overhear, the raider chieftain was debating about what to do with them. It seemed that many of his advisors were very much in favour of killing them off slowly. The most favourable idea that had come up so far, from the perspectives of the captives, was one particular elder who wanted to ransom them back to Czerka in exchange for weapons or supplies. The only problem with that plan was that Czerka employees went missing every day, and the company had long ago stopped caring about them; what hope would two freelancers and a protocol droid have of being saved?

After about fifteen minutes of HK-47's running commentary of the debate, Maric and Bastila unanimously commanded it to shut up. It wisely complied. They sat in silence for a few minutes more, not really being able to move and not having the inclination to talk. At least until Maric felt his mental defences, which had been constructed with aid from Bastila and Juhani to block unwarranted emotions from being shared across the bond, crumble into proverbial dust and wave after wave of grief, mourning, and pain assaulted his mind. There was really no question of where it was coming from, but she showed no outward signs of any of these things. She had, unbeknownst to Maric (but evidently known to and accepted by their guards), sidled slowly away from the centre of their cell and towards the far wall. Maric, demonstrating a level of concern he had been unaware he possessed, slowly dragged his trussed body over to her. "You alright?" he asked her, more than a bit stupidly. He did not have much experience with emotional women, he rarely had the chance to; his usual tactic was do 'em and dump 'em.

She looked up at him, looking no different from how she usually looked. If it wasn't for the emotional tidal waves still crashing on his mind, and the monstrous headache they were causing, he would never have known a single thing was amiss. However Bastila obviously realized that he knew and there was no way to lie her way out of it, because she responded quite honestly. "Tatooine swallows everything; you heard what the miners said. Every minute we're stuck here is another minute my father's holocron could be vanishing into the sands." Maric knew perfectly well that she should have been more concerned about the Star Map, and knew that she knew, but he didn't call her on it; he knew what it was like to lose a father, and to have nothing to remember him by.

She had turned away from him again, trying to isolate herself in her grief. As best he could, considering the restraints, he reached over and tilted her chin up; she looked at him again, this time with surprise filtering through her carefully constructed mask of indifference. "Chin up. My old job may not have been as glamorous as being a Jedi," he glanced around the small room with a wry grin, "but do you know what it taught me? Never say never. We'll get out of this, don't worry."

Bastila looked as though she was ready to commit him to a mental institution. "How?" she asked sardonically, knowing full well that escape was pretty much impossible. And yet, impossible seemed to be his middle name. She remembered hearing stories about him in the war, how he and his best friend had faced insurmountable odds and came out smiling.

"Trust me." He assured her, unhelpfully, with an infuriatingly handsome lopsided grin on his face. Just then, as though the Force was in cahoots with this damned ex-smuggler, the wood slat door of their cell was pulled open and two more Sand People came in.

"Translation: Master, it seems that the chieftain deems us worthy of curiosity for the moment. We are to be temporarily released, and brought before him." 47 translated the newcomer's incoherent screeches. The guards came over and removed their bonds, and even helped them to stand. They were remarkably polite, despite what Czerka claimed. Bastila's already scarlet face deepened into a deep shade of crimson, the most impressive Maric had ever seen achieved by a human, upon reaching the understanding that she was to be presented nearly naked before even more of the primitive males. Maric reasoned that they wouldn't dare touch, or even think about touching, one of their prisoners, but it didn't really help.

Sure enough no Sand People gave her so much as a second glance on their short walk, although many spared the prisoners a single curious look. Soon enough they had been led towards the central room, where the clan chieftain held council. He looked no different from any other Sand Person they had seen, except that his robes were a little less frayed and he carried an intricately carved gaffi stick. He unleashed a torrent of harsh hoots and grumbles, which were completely incomprehensible to either of the humans. 47, however, had no difficulty with them.

"Translation: He demands to know why we attempted to infiltrate their enclave, dressed in the garb of slain warriors."

There was no question of whom the query, if it could be called that, was directed towards; from the little they had seen of the enclave, they did not seem to be big on women's rights. Men ran the show, and so it was Maric who answered. "Tell him we came from Czerka," although the chieftain did not understand much Basic, he obviously knew that word. His rage was terrible, and Maric had to wait for his advisors to calm him down before continuing, "But we do not agree with them. We have been charged to kill this clan, but we only desire peace." 47 dubiously relayed the message.

The chieftain was silent for a long time; he seemed to be pondering them and Maric's message. Finally, he gave his answer. It was far calmer than it had been before. "Translation: Your proposition intrigues him master. He too wants peace, although Czerka will not allow it." Maric was about to ask if there was any way they could reach an agreement, but the chieftain stopped the words in his throat by continuing. "Translation: He is weary of fighting Czerka, though he knows that they will soon leave. He had planned to move the enclave further away from the town, but he will need more supplies. He wishes for you to gather two moisture vaporators to collect water. In exchange, you will be released and the attacks will be lessened."

Maric considered it, mentally asking Bastila's opinion on the matter. They were of a single mind on the subject; if they refused then they ran the risk of dying out in the desert. At least if they accepted there was a good chance of both getting out alive and pacifying Czerka. However… "That is unacceptable. The attacks must stop altogether." Maric demanded. 47 relayed the message.

"Translation: He admires your courage master, but it is impossible. Czerka has invaded their lands and defiled their sacred places. He has made the best offer he can. May I commence killing these primitive meatbags master?"

Maric shook his head, HK-47 going berserk was the last thing they needed. "Tell the chieftain I accept his proposal." He reluctantly responded.

"Translation: He is pleased you have made that decision. You showed much skill Master, in killing their scouting parties, and he would have been saddened to have executed such a fine warrior. However, he must take steps to ensure that you will return as promised." Maric inclined his head in agreement, having expected this. "Translation: Your clothes will be returned, but your weapons and equipment will stay here. However, you will be given enough water to make the trip to Anchorhead and back."

47 paused as the chieftain relayed another directive, and actually hesitated in passing it on. "Translation: He also requests that the Jedi Shan remain here while you gather the vaporators." Maric was about to protest, and he doubted that Bastila was going to keep a lid on it for much longer either, but the droid continued. "Her safety can be guaranteed for a period of eighteen local hours. In that time she will be treated as the chieftain's own lifemate.

"Explanation: This means that no warrior will harm her under penalty of death.

"Translation: After this period has expired however, her well-being can not be assured with any degree of accuracy. The clan is not fond of outsiders, particularly outsiders who slaughter their warriors without just cause. He therefore also advises you to hurry."

Maric and Bastila shared a glance. Neither of them were very happy with the situation, Bastila especially, but there was no other way out of it now; they had already agreed. He nodded solemnly to the chieftain. Orders were barked, which 47 did not feel the need to translate, and two females entered the small room carrying Maric's folded Jedi robes and several skins full of water. He donned the robes quickly, hooked the skins to his belt, and allowed himself to be escorted out of the enclave with his droid. He could sense that Bastila was trying to break through his mental blocks, but he had strengthened them and shut her out; he couldn't bring himself to face her at the moment.

--

The journey across the Dune Sea took six local hours on foot, on good days, and it was a hard trek. On Tatooine, the very air and sunlight became one's enemies. The sand was ever shifting, swallowing old landmarks and leaving new ones in different places; you could never be entirely sure of your steps, and ran the risk of slipping and tumbling down a dune which could take you an hour to climb again. The twin suns, Tatoo I and Tatoo II, beat down constantly. Their rays warmed you such that you felt the need to remove your protective covering or suffocate, but once you did the ultraviolet radiation would fry your skin to a crisp. Even Maric, who was drawing heavily on the Force to keep himself moving, had trouble crossing its barren expanse. His only means of navigation was the compass program running in the immense droid keeping pace beside him; a droid who seemed to have a lot to say.

"Congratulation: Master, I must admire your ruthlessness in leaving the Jedi meatbag with our captors. Many a human would have been blinded by feelings of 'love' for their female companions, particularly a specimen of such human beauty as the Jedi Shan."

"47?" Maric interrupted, before the droid could go further. He really did not need to second-guess his decision any more than he already was.

"Acknowledgment: Yes master?"

"Shut up."

The droid was silent for several hours after that, and Maric was personally praying that some silica had congealed around his vocabulator. No such luck, as it proved within a relatively short time (although there was really no way of knowing exactly how long; time loses all meaning within the Dunes). "Observation: Despite my earlier comment master, I do not believe you are entirely immune to this chemical imbalance you humans call 'love.' I have observed, in my short time travelling with you, that your body undergoes several unhealthy states of being while you are examining the Jedi Shan while she is unawares." Maric flushed; he had been checking her out, but he didn't think the damn droid had noticed. He made a mental note to wipe its memory core of that particular incident. "Calculation: Your heart rate increases by 7.52 beats per standard minute; your external temperature rises by 3.70 standard degrees; your visual acuity rises to 37.85 cycles per degree; your meatbag brain releases signals at longer intervals; and significant portion of your blood is diverted to your genitalia." Maric flushed even more. Although most of the things his droid had mentioned had happened without his knowledge, the last one he was more than aware of.

"Extrapolation: I am not programmed as a medical droid master, but I can postulate that they are functions of an equation which indicates you hold 'emotions' of desire for the Jedi Shan."

Maric did not respond for a moment; he spent that time trying to centre himself and not commence beating the droid down with his bare fists, which would not have been intelligent in any event so it is extremely fortunate that he did not. He paused when he reached the top of the current dune, from which he could see the Anchorhead gate, and addressed the droid beside him. "HK-47, if I were you I would not mention these observations to anyone else. Ever." He advised the construction.

"Affirmation: Very well master; to borrow a human expression, my vocabulator is sealed on the subject." It replied grudgingly.

--

After asking around the small city, if it could even be called that, Maric learnt that the best place to buy vaporators also happened to be the best place to buy anything: Czerka Supply Store. So that is where Maric went.

The Rodian minding the counter was, upon learning what his customer wanted, anything but helpful. "Why should I sell them to you? Only farmers need them, and I can tell just by looking at you that you're no farmer. Why is it you need them?" he demanded.

Maric sighed. He really didn't want to have to say, especially since the very anti-Sand People customer relation representative was anxiously listening to the conversation. Instead he called on what parts of the Force he knew, and used them to nudge the salesman's mind in an agreeable direction. "I'm going to explore the Dune Sea, and I need two portable moisture vaporators for the journey." He repeated the statement he had opened with.

To do him some credit, the humanoid shopkeeper blinked his compartmentalized insectoid eyes several times before responding in a slightly wistful voice. "Very well, I can sell you a set for five hundred credits." Maric quickly accepted the offer, picked up the packages (which were not much bigger than a couple of small crates, and easily carried by the duo), and left the building quickly before the Czerka rep could interrogate them further.

"Observation: It is very fortunate for us Master, that the shopkeeper, to use a human idiom: had a change of heart. My processor calculates that we have nine local hours remaining before the Jedi Shan's well-being is no longer certain."

Maric did not respond. He had been keeping a very close eye on the chronometer built into his datapad, and was well aware of the time limit that was imposed on them. He could only hope that the additional weight of the moisture vaporators wouldn't slow them down enough to put Bastila's life at risk.

--

As it turned out, they returned to the enclave with plenty of time to spare. Maric, translated by HK-47, instructed several younger females on the use of the vaporators, and they were permitted to leave. They also asked the chieftain about the Star Map, and he gave them directions to a cave inhabited by a Krayt dragon. Finally, they were told that they were able to take with them a tribe of Jawa slaves who had outlived their usefulness. Maric had encountered a Jawa leader named Iziz upon his last visit to Anchorhead who had pleaded him to release just that tribe. The Force works in mysterious ways, as Bastila had put it upon hearing of the situation.

The problem was that they had never been told exactly where the Jawas were located. Their only source of information was that the prisoner cells were located at the farthest end from the entrance, however this still left a choice between two. And they couldn't even rely on which cell they had been kept in, in part because they couldn't remember and in part because the prisoners may have been moved around during this time. Making a snap decision, Maric opened the wood-slat door to the cell at the farthest end.

It naturally happened to be their old cell, but there was one significant difference: the Twi'lek, who had been unconscious during their stay, was now pacing around the cell muttering under his breath. He had green skin, was a little bit shorter than Maric, and wore the uniform of a Czerka employee. When he heard the door open, he immediately turned to them and began to make deals. "Hey there! I'm a, uh…high-ranking official in Czerka Corporation. There…eh, is a big…reward for my release." He told them in the stuttering voice of a poor liar.

Maric, and Bastila, were suspicious. The being was obviously lying, but he did seem familiar somehow. "What is your name?" Bastila asked the captive Twi'lek.

Aforementioned Twi'lek was so nervous that his lekku were noticeably vibrating. "Uh…Griff." He replied shortly, keeping a watchful eye on the guards outside his cell.

Maric shared a surprised look with Bastila. "Griff, as in Griff Vao?" She asked him slowly. He nodded, and the two Jedi shared another look. Griff asked if they had heard of him. Bastila hesitated some time before she responded. "Yes, we've been travelling with your little sister Mission." She told him warily.

Maric could plainly see the Twi'lek's eyes widen with fear. "Uh…good! I'm so glad she's alive! Err…has she…been talking to you? About me?" he asked haltingly, and very hesitantly.

The Jedi glanced at each other again. "You'd better go see her yourself." They replied simultaneously. "She's up at the spaceport, probably." Maric finished. There was an awkward moment when nobody moved, and then Griff rushed past them on his way to freedom. "I almost feel bad for the guy." Maric commented aside to Bastila.

"Almost." She agreed with a slight smile, which he quickly shared. "Come on, the sooner we get to the Star Map the sooner we can get off of this planet."

They quickly freed the Jawas in the second cell, and made their way to the enclave's exit. "Commentary: I cannot wait to leave this planet master; I have so much sand in my circuits I can barely move." HK-47 added shortly after exiting the home of the Sand People. Neither Jedi paid him any heed; they had more important things to worry about that a disgruntled protocol droid.

* * *

A final note, regarding lack of reader response. I would firstly like to extend infinite gratitude to the seven of you who actually took the time to press that little bluish-purple button and tell me what you thought. So, I extend untold gratitude to the following people:

jarems12

idylosis prawn

The Fico

Voldy's pink teddy

Tainava Vonroa

PokehTurtle

darkstar327

To the approximately 1 171 other people who read but didn't bother to tell me what they thought, including the five people who put this on their alerts and the one who put it on their favourite stories without reviewing: It's not that hard. Takes about thirty seconds to do, and that's only if you leave a huge letter-sized review. I just realized I had Anonymous Reviews disabled, so now none of you have an excuse. Take fifteen seconds out of your day and tell a guy what you think of his stuff. It isn't difficult.

On a lighter subject, chapter six will probably be the final chapter of Tatooine. Working at my current pace, I would estimate this fic to wind up being sixteen chapters long, but we'll see how that goes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

'How the hell did we end up with this job?' Maric wondered bitterly to himself. Some hours after leaving the Sand People's enclave had found the trio outside a Krayt Dragon cave, in just enough time to watch a human hunter, impatient with his Twi'lek companion, rush blindly in and be unceremoniously swallowed. This same Twi'lek, a hunter by the name of Komad Fortuna, had recruited them in his stead. Their task, and the success of their mission, revolved around shepherding a herd of Bantha within smelling distance of the cave, luring the Dragon towards food and into the gauntlet of plasma mines set by Komad. Naturally this could only be done with the aid of Bantha fodder, unanimously agreed by Maric and Bastila to be the most foul and noxious substance in the universe.

'I'm not entirely sure.' Bastila replied mentally, reminding Maric for the thousandth time that she had an ear on everything that went on in his head. She stepped gingerly over the corpse of a Sand Person she had earlier beheaded (Another perk to their glamorous errand: a local tribe defending their livestock), but the Bantha behind her chose to merely crush it.

The sound of splintering bones filled the air, and Maric swore he saw HK-47's photoreceptors glow with a macabre delight. "Commentary: Oh how I love that sound," The homicidal protocol droid spoke up, much to the chagrin of his human companions. "Of course, it would be much better with the addition of some unpitched vocal emissions, but one can't have everything." Rather than address the droid's unsettling behaviour, the Jedi duo chose to ignore it. It had been like that since they bought him, and it was doubtful that suggestion could change what was obviously programmed into its processor core.

Instead they continued the remainder of the distance to the cave, where their orange-skinned comrade was setting the final mine. "Excellent!" He praised in Huttese. "Drop the bait and get clear; it won't be long." Sure enough, the four of them barely had time to take cover behind a dune before the earth shook and a terrible scream threatened to burst their eardrums. "Oh my, he's a big one!" As the lizard stomped out of its shadowy cave, Maric was forced to disagree; it wasn't simply large, it was enormous.

The surrounding sands physically shifted orientation from the enormous force of its paws. Its massive jaw, nearly large enough to swallow the _Ebon Hawk_ whole, opened to reveal rows of massive teeth, the largest of which looks to be as tall as HK-47 and as large as Canderous, and emitted an ear-splitting shriek that shook the very air. The beast pulled its body out of the cave, seventy feet of muscle and scales supported by four powerful legs. A few more steps brought the dragon's monstrous tail into view, but also placed it within the first gauntlet of mines. It screeched in pain as the concentrated plasma burst onto it, melting its scales and bringing up angry burns, but it continued its relentless pursuit of food before finally faltering and falling. The shockwave caused by the gargantuan beast hitting the sand momentarily lifted Maric, Bastila, Komad, HK-47, and the Bantha herd several inches off the sand.

The quartet approached, Komad leading and the others following warily behind. It was well-known that Krayt dragons produced a powerful venom, and none of them wanted to take the chance of coming into contact with it. "Alas," Komad mourned. "Such a majestic creature. I wish I could have honoured him with a final battle. But that will have to wait for another hunt." The Twi'lek busied himself about the dragon's jaws, and turned to the Jedi with a smooth round gem in his hands. "Your reward, for a valiant hunt; it is one of the finest dragon pearls I have ever encountered." Maric tried to deny it, but Komad would have none of it and pushed it into his hands. "Other adventures await me; other creatures to hunt. Until we meet again." Komad bowed low, and took off across the dunes in his speeder.

Now that the cave was finally vacated, the trio began to explore it. They found the body of a Twi'lek Jedi Master, and several other half-eaten corpses, before they reached the Star Map at the very back of the cave, amongst a plethora of broken pillars and shattered statues. The map structure's tines split open upon their approach, revealing the actual map itself. Maric quickly copied the information into his datapad. "I can feel the dark side around this map. Is it any coincidence that a Krayt dragon made its nest here?" Bastila wondered aloud.

"Calculation: The probability of coincidence is approximately 0.001675. Extrapolation: It is highly likely that the Krayt dragon was drawn to these 'dark side' energies."

Maric nodded absently. "So there are probably similar guardians around the other maps. This is going to be fun." His eyes strayed from the map, now closed, and fell on the mangled body of an elderly human. More specifically, he was drawn to the relatively undamaged pack and the metallic glint he saw within it.

Bastila, feeling his curiosity through their bond, followed his gaze. Maric could feel the rapid shift in emotion, from concern about the star maps to curiosity, puzzlement, and finally grief. "Father…" The word fell softly from her lips even as Bastila herself fell to her knees besides the body of her father.

Maric could only stand and watch as she cradled the more-or-less intact head in her lap, but he knelt beside her when he sensed the tears flowing from her eyes. Gingerly, unsure, he laid his arm across her shoulders, doing what he could to comfort her. Instead of pushing him away she pulled closer, leaning against his body as she wept silently.

Not wanting to intrude on the moment, but finding himself unable to move, Maric turned his attention towards the man's pack and called it to him through the Force. Inside he found little; some spare clothes, a couple of credit chips, and a small transparent cube. Bastila, sensing his discovery, dried her eyes and turned to him, staring at the cube in wonderment. "This was father's holocron," she murmured, barely audible. "His personal diary; all of his thoughts, opinions, and adventures."

She waved her hand over the surface of the cube, speaking to it with the Force. A small crystal at the cube's center began to glow and sent a shimmer of light towards the object's top face, which coalesced on the surface into the miniature form of a man bearing a striking resemblance to the corpse before them. "Welcome to the holocron of Frederick Shan. I am here to guide you," It spoke in a reverberating, dimensionless voice.

"Wait, I thought only Jedi could make holocrons," Maric wondered aloud, remembering the lessons he had been given by Master Dorak on various historically-related subject.

Bastila opened her mouth to respond, but the image of her father reacted first. Apparently responding to something Maric had said, the figures disappeared and the holocron glowed with greater intensity for a brief second, until the figure returned. It had changed form slightly, and this time it was not alone. While it was evidently still the same man, he was much younger and wearing voluminous robes, meditating on the ground. The other figure with him, astonishingly, was none other than Master Vandar, and he was clearly instructing the younger man in the art of meditation.

"Father was a Jedi," Bastila breathed, awed. "He must have left the Order years before I was born." They watched as the figures changed to a scene of Bastila's father receiving lightsaber training from a Twi'lek Jedi Bastila didn't recognize.

They could easily have watched the holocron for hours, but HK-47's mechanical voice pierced the stillness. "Warning: Master, there is a small contingent of armed humanoids approaching rapidly."

Both Jedi leapt to their feet, Bastila stowing the holocron in her pack. "47, identify them and their weapons, if your scanners can reach that far." Maric ordered the droid, peering out the mouth of the cave to try and get a glimpse of the approaching lifeforms. All he could see was the faintest cloud of dust on the distant horizon.

"Commentary: Master, you wound me." HK-47 moaned. "My scanners are more than up to the task." It feel silent for a merciful moment. "My sensors indicate six Aqualish males, six Rodian males, and one human male. They are armed with weaponry that is unknown to my processor core. The human is travelling on a very advanced personal speeder, and the other beings are in pairs in primitive landspeeders. Their speed indicates that the speeders have been upgraded.

"Calculation: At present velocity they will arrive in exactly 37.48 local seconds." It concluded.

Not pausing to wonder how a combat droid was unfamiliar with any kind of weaponry, Maric acted immediately. "Bastila, take cover behind that stalagmite," He pointed at a rock formation near the cave entrance, "And get a plasma grenade ready." She nodded and complied, the metallic handle of her double-bladed lightsaber in her hand as well.

"47, take out one of those speeders." The droid complied with only the barest quip, raising the scope of its Mandalorian assault rifle, borrowed from Canderous' stash, to its photoreceptor. After a seemingly-infinite pause, the droid squeezed the trigger and released a burst of energy far more accurate than even the most skilled organic sharpshooter, which collided with the engine of one of the landspeeders and sent it careening into the dune in a plume of flames.

HK-47's 'eyes' glowed with what was easily mistakable for delight as it lowered its rifle. "Compliment: Oh Master, I do so love it when you permit me access to my assassination protocols. It has been far too long since I wasted a meatbag."

Ignoring the thing, Maric reached both hands into his robe and withdrew the customized blaster pistols he had wielded in his life before the Jedi. "Keep your rifle ready," He ordered the droid. Addressing Bastila, he continued. "On my signal, throw the grenade as far as you can and join the fight." Bastila rolled the metal ball in her hand and nodded.

The speeders were now close enough to see, and Maric could confirm what he had suspected since HK-47 had first detected them: Calo Nord. The neophyte Jedi walked calmly out of the cave, rusty red combat droid following, as the speeders slowed to a halt several feet in front of them. "And don't kriffing shoot anything before I do." Maric hissed at the droid, who made no response.

Calo jumped from his speeder bike and approached the duo. "Finally, we meet again." The diminutive bounty hunter opened in his nasally voice. "I have to admit, you were a difficult chase. But nobody gets away from Calo Nord."

Maric fingered the trigger of his blasters warily. "Come on Calo, I know how your kind works. Will a thousand credits persuade you to leave me alone?"

Nord shook his head expressionlessly. "Sorry," He didn't sound at all sorry. "You're lives are worth a hundred times that, ten if you're dead. Besides, it's not about the credits; you got away from me once before, I have a reputation to consider."

Not seeing the point in prolonging the inevitable, Maric brought one of his blasters up and fired a shot aimed at Calo's head. With superhuman agility, the bounty hunter whirled out of the path of the bolt, drew his own pistols, and began laying down fire Maric's direction. Responding to the threat to his master, HK-47 opened fire on Calo with its massive rifle, and Calo's thugs started firing their own assorted weapons.

Maric fired a couple of bolts at several thugs before flinging his blasters to the ground and drawing his lightsaber just in time to deflect a bolt from hitting him between the eyes. "_Now, Bastila!_" He cried out through their bond. Bastila threw the grenade in a perfect arc and it detonated, trajectory aided by Maric with the Force, on Calo's left side in a magnificent fireball. Two Aqualish and a Rodian were totally consumed by the blast, and another Rodian was slowly incinerated, screeching in agony, but Calo was almost totally unscathed, barring a minor burn on that side of his face.

Bastila leapt over the rock she had been hiding behind, igniting her lightsaber and charging at Calo with Maric at her side, both of them furiously blocking the blaster fire directed their way. HK-47, meanwhile, had blown the head off of an Aqualish and was slowly walking towards one of the remaining Rodians, underpowered blaster bolts deflecting off its armoured chassis.

As the two Jedi neared him, Calo dropped his blasters and drew a vibroblade, brandishing it menacingly. Maric called on the Force to strengthen his legs and jumped at his enemy, coming down out of the sky with his lightsaber firmly positioned. Seeing his chance, Calo readied his blade to thrust up, impaling the Jedi right through the chest. But he didn't count on the other Jedi.

Bastila immediately saw the peril of Maric's position and flung her lightsaber towards Calo, who was forced to break his lethal position to parry it. The loss of her weapon left her vulnerable to the final Rodian, not counting the one whose insectoid skull HK-47 has just gleefully crushed, who fired a bolt that caught her in the side. Gasping in pain, Bastila fell to the sand and sent a burst of Force energy, significantly more powerful than she had intended, towards her attacker, which crushed his chest.

Maric felt Bastila go down, but he was unable to do anything about it in his present state. With Calo's vibroblade out of the way, he brought all of the significant momentum behind his lightsaber down onto the bounty hunter's hand, neatly severing it and making him crumble to the ground in pain. The Jedi recovered quicker, and stood with the tip of his lightsaber hovering over Calo's neck.

All eyes were on Maric. The bounty hunter looked up, cradling his severed wrist in his hand, staring with malice and hate, clearly wanting and expecting to die. Bastila watched from the sand, clutching her injured side, waiting to see what he'd do. HK-47 watched from afar, rifle at the ready in case Calo made a move against his master.

But whatever everyone was expecting, Maric withdrew his lightsaber. Using the Force to keep the bounty hunter motionless, he picked up Calo's shiny and powerful blasters, summoned Bastila's backup blaster from her hip, and placed it carefully next to the small man. Next he dropped to his knees and stripped off Calo's extremely valuable body armour, leaving the formerly dignified bounty hunter in nothing but his skivvies.

Still not saying a word, Maric packed his spoils in his bag, and motioned to HK-47. Understanding, the droid systematically went to each of the remaining landspeeders and initiated their self destruct protocols, reducing them to piles of slag on the dunes. Maric, meanwhile, had picked Bastila up bodily (despite her protests), and set her on Calo's own speeder, which he then climbed onto and sped away.

HK-47 stalked up to the prone bounty hunter, immobile now not through the Force but through fear, and picked up the blaster that Maric had left beside him. It was a very old basic blaster model, little power, with several hundred shots left in its power cell. HK-47 raised the blaster and pointed it at the trembling bounty hunter for a moment, before raising it slightly and unloading into the dune behind. As he fired, the droid talked.

"Commentary: I admit that I was initially confused why Master would leave you with such a dangerous weapon, but I see his motives.

"Explanation: This model of blaster pistol contains an energy cell that can sustain ten thousand shots." HK-47 abruptly stopped firing and laid the weapon back beside Calo. "This particular weapon can now only support one." With that, the droid stalked off in the approximate direction of Anchorhead, leaving bounty hunter and pistol behind.

Calo Nord was never seen again.

* * *

So there we go, I finally finished Tatooine. Yes, that is the end of the planet; I'm trying to get back into the swing of things with my highlights tactic, instead of making more of a cohesive story.

I apologize for the amount of time it took me to get this chapter out, and for the wait on all of my other stories. I'll be updating intermittently, but it might be a long time. I think I'm going to concentrate on Star Wars for now, though.


End file.
